


Meeting

by Esti7310



Series: Dante's POV [3]
Category: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Genre: M/M, Re-written scene, both of em are clueless for now, meeting scene but from dante's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esti7310/pseuds/Esti7310
Summary: Dante finally talks to the kid in red swim shorts who comes to the pool every day and just floats. (Ari and Dante's meeting scene but from Dante's perspective)





	Meeting

My dad woke me up every day, even in the summer. Alarm clocks just weren’t convincing enough for me. There was nothing threatening about ignoring an electronic beep. But ignoring my dad – well. That was another story. And as much as I loved sleep, I didn’t want the summer to slip away while I was in bed. So every morning at ten, my dad would knock on my door and lean inside and stand there talking to me until I got up. 

Almost every day, I went straight to the Memorial Park pool. It was less hot there, and I loved swimming. I didn’t love a lot of things, but I really, really loved swimming. I loved crossing back and forth through the water, the splashing and up-and-down drowning out everything but me. I loved it. I figured I should be playing soccer or something, something more Mexican. My mother assured me that swimming could be just as Mexican as soccer.

My coordination was crap anyway. I couldn’t play soccer to save my life. 

The pool had the usual crowd that day – moms wrangling kids, bored teenagers teaching little kids to swim, the obnoxious lifeguard, a few older kids hanging out. And, of course, there was Red Swim Shorts.

Red Swim Shorts had been at the pool almost every day I'd been there. He looked about my age, with darker skin and short brown hair. The funny thing was, he didn’t look like he knew how to swim. He would sit on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water or just float on his back, but he never swam. Every time his face would start to slip under the surface of the water, he would splutter and sort of flail his arms and legs until he got himself back to floating. I always looked for him there. I didn’t know him, but I thought I might want to, because any guy who came to the pool alone without knowing how to swim had to have something interesting to say. 

That day, Red Swim Shorts was floating right by the end of the lap lane, and I wanted to talk to him. Maybe I was lonely. It was boring not having many friends, and he looked bored too. I have a general rule that it’s better to be bored with someone than to be bored alone. 

I don’t know where it came from, but I finally called out to him while he floated by with his eyes closed. 

“I can teach you how to swim.”

My voice had come out all cracked and higher than I meant it to. I cleared my throat, waiting for him to answer. The kid stood up and came over to the edge of the pool. I sat down so he wouldn’t have to stare up at me. He looked confused, which I guess was fair, since I didn’t know him at all. 

After a minute, I spoke again. “I can teach you how to swim, if you want.”

“You talk funny,” he said.

“Allergies,” I answered, shrugging,

“What are you allergic to?”

“The air,” I said. He laughed, and I decided I was going to be his friend. I liked his laugh, and I liked his weird way of starting a conversation.

“My name’s Dante,” I said. 

That really made him lose it. 

“Sorry,” he said, grinning.

“It’s okay, people laugh at my name.” Not usually that hard, or with a laugh that nice.

“No, no,” he said quickly. “See, it’s just that my name’s Aristotle.”

My eyes widened. Red Swim Shorts was named Aristotle? I knew there had to be a story with him, but there was no way it was this good. 

“Aristotle,” he repeated, grinning at me. He was laughing again, and then I was laughing too. 

“My father’s an English professor,” I said finally. 

“At least you have an excuse. My father’s a mailman,” said Aristotle, still smiling at me. I loved his smile, too. “Aristotle is the English version of my Grandfather’s name.  _ Aristotiles.  _ And my real first name is Angel.” He said it again in Spanish – “ _ Angel _ ,” with an H sound. He was probably fluent, or at least spoke some – the accent sounded natural in his voice. Plus, the name.

“Your real name is Angel Aristotle?” I asked.

“Yeah. That’s my real name.”

And then we were laughing again. He couldn’t seem to stop, and I got the feeling he hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. He glanced down when he laughed, like he was avoiding my eyes, like he was trying not to let the world see his laugh, which was sort of sad. He had a beautiful laugh. 

“I used to tell people my name was Dan,” I said to him. “I mean, you know, I just dropped two letters. But I stopped doing that. It wasn’t honest. And anyway, I always got found out. And I felt like a liar and an idiot. I was ashamed of myself for being myself. I didn’t like feeling like that.” I shrugged. This was probably where he would either decide that he didn’t want to talk to me, or that we were going to be friends. 

“Everyone calls me Ari,” he said. 

“Nice to meet you, Ari,” I said, relieved. 

“Okay,” he said, “teach me how to swim.”

I jumped into the pool and swam into the shallow end. He followed me. 

“Okay,” I said, “can you swim at all?”

“Sort of,” said Ari. “I mean, I can float.”

“So you can’t swim,” I said, grinning. 

“I guess not.”

“That’s okay,” I said. "It's not too hard."

"I've never been able to do it."

"Have you tried?"

"Not really. My mom would be pissed if I accidentally drowned myself."

I laugh again. Why can't I stop laughing? "Well, you'd better learn so you can save yourself if you ever fall in water. Wouldn't want to piss off your mom, right?"

"Okay," he said. "My life is in your hands now, though."

"Got it," I said, "we'll be careful. It's not like I'm throwing you straight in the deep end."

"Thanks."

"I could probably save you if you started drowning, anyway. Then you'd be indebted to me. You'll have to save me sometime.

"Well, I can't save you from drowning."

"Guess I better teach you how to swim so you can."

Ari was a fast learner, quietly doing everything I suggested. I talked to him while I taught him, and after a little while of teaching, we just stood in the water and talked. 

“Do you swim?” Ari asked me when we finally left the water. He sat on one of the pool chairs next to me. “Like, on a team or something?”

“I’m on the team at Cathedral. I love swimming, being free in the water and everything.”

“You go to Cathedral?”

“Yeah. You?” 

“Austin.”

I nodded. “I’ve never had a friend from another school.”

“I’ve never even had a friend at my own school.”

I laughed, and then he laughed. “You must have some friends,” I said. 

“I guess I do,” said Ari. “Just, you know, no one I like all that much.”

“I don’t have very many interesting friends, either,” I told him. “Maybe we should keep hanging out so I can add you to my list.”

“I’m not interesting,” said Ari, wrapping a towel around himself. 

“You at least have potential,” I said. He laughed.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” I said. “If you want to learn more, I mean.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. 

“Will you be here?”

“I might be.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you around.”

“Are you leaving?”

“I have to get home,” I said, stuffing my tennis shoes in my bag. 

“Oh, okay,” said Ari. I was already halfway towards the exit when I heard him again. 

“Dante!”

I turned. 

“Thanks,” he called, grinning. I smiled back and waved. I hoped I would see him again. 

 

“Did you do anything fun today?”

That was what my mom always asked over dinner. I usually had nothing to say to her, but I liked that she asked it anyway. Today I had an answer. 

“I met this guy at the pool.”

“Oh?” she said. 

“I’ve seen him there before. He always just sort of floats in the water by himself. We started talking and I taught him how to swim.”

“That was nice of you,” said my dad. “What’s his name?”

“That’s the best part,” I said, grinning. “His name’s Aristotle.”

Both of them laughed. 

“I guess I’m not the only one with crazy parents,” I said. 

“Dante’s a very nice name,” said my mom. “So is Aristotle.”

“He goes by Ari.”

“You don’t think that’s dishonest?” said my dad half-mockingly, remembering the ‘Dan’ years. 

“Nah, Ari suits him,” I said. 

The conversation moved on, but I couldn’t stop thinking of Ari. I’d been thinking of him all day. There was something intriguing about him, something in the way he talked and the way he smiled. Something that made me really hope we could hang out again. 

I already liked him. I liked him a lot. 

**Author's Note:**

> Someone commented on my first thing in this series and suggested the meeting scene and it was super fun to write, so I hope y'all liked it! Comments fuel me, and if there's a specific scene you want to see from Dante's POV, let me know and I'll probably write it! More scenes are coming soon :) (as in I have two that are almost done)


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